Avon Fantasy Reader No. 9 — page 87: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“She'll sleep,” Dr. Clegg assured him. “No need to worry.” “Pll feel better if I stay. ’m beginning to get a theory about all this talk—other worlds, and changes in her body before a trip. It ties in with the window, somehow. And it sounds like a fantasy on suicide.” “The death-impulse? Perhaps. I should have thought of that possibil- ity. Dreams foreshadowing death—on second thought, Mason, I may stay with you. We can make ourselves comfortable here before the fire, I suppose.” Silence settled. It must have been well after midnight before either of them moved from their place before the fire. Then a sharp splinter of sound crashed from above. Before the tinkling echo died away, both men were on their feet and moving towards the stairway. There was no further noise from above, and neither of them exchanged a single word. Only the thud of their running footsteps on the stairs broke the silence. And as they paused outside Avis Long’s room, the silence seemed to deepen in intensity. It was a silence palpable, complete, accomplished. Dr. Clegg’s hand darted to the.doorknob, wrenched it ineffectually. “Locked!” he muttered. “She must have gotten up and locked it.” -Mason scowled. “The window—do you think she could have—?” Dr. Clegg refused to meet his glance. Instead he turned and put his massive shoulder to the door panel. A bulge of muscle ridged his neck. Then the panel splintered and gave way. ‘Mason reached around and opened the door from inside. They entered the darkened room, Dr. Clegg, in the lead, fumbling for the light-switch. The harsh, electric glare flooded the scene. ? ‘It was a tribute to the power of suggestion that both men glanced, not _at the patient in the bed, but at the round window high up on the wall. - Cold night air streamed through a jagged aperture, where the glass had been shattered, as though by the blow of a gigantic fist. Eee : Fragments of glass littered the floor beneath, but there was no trace of any missile. And obviously, the glass had been broken from the outer side of the pane. “The wind,” Mason murmured, weakly, but he could not look at Dr. Clegg as he spoke. For there was no wind, only the cold, soft breeze that billowed ever so gently from the nighted sky above. Only the cold, soft breeze, rustling the curtains and prompting a sarabande of shadows on the wall; shadows that danced in silence over the great bed in the corner. The breeze and the silence and the shadows enveloped them as_ they stared now at the bed. : Avis Long’s head was turned towards them on the pillow. They could see her face quite plainly, and Dr. Clegg realized on the basis of experi- ence what Mason knew instinctively—Avis Long’s eyes were closed in death. 85 | | COMUIELOOKXS (eo)